


Atomic

by punkrockgaia



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, M/M, glamtrash!cecil, grunge!Carlos, indescriminate sex, psychedelics, punkrock!earl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2065251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your hair is beautiful tonight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atomic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jathis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/gifts), [videntefernandez](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=videntefernandez).



> I LOVE Jathis' Glam Trash Cecil fics, so I wanted to make one in response to Club Thumping.

Cecil watched through the jumping crowd. The heat and the sweat made an environment not often found in this desert clime, a greenhouse. It was humid, and Cecil's pores opened gratefully to the moisture.

Earl was back at the bar. He had to remember that. Earl was his lifeline, his base station. Yes. Earl was back at the bar, sipping a Coke. ("Not the diet, Ma'am. That's fulla chemicals. I'm straight edge." Earl displays a sharpie'd x over his pulse points.)

Speaking of "fulla chemicals," what else is the night for? Various fellas give him various pills, and he washes them down with various brightly-colored liquids. 

And then.

Then it happens. Right when the E peaks, right when the vodkatequilagin hits his brain. 

There's a bright light from God. No, the Gods. No, it's the fucking BEAM the fucking BEAM is here and the BEAM is manifesting to Cecil, to Cecil, to Cecil

The beam hits a head of 

PERFECT

FUCKING

HAIR

The hair is ink-black. The hair is curly. The hair is... unghfhghtthhh... Why does sex exist outside of the presence of that fucking hair?

Cecil makes his way toward that hair, or at least tries to. On the way, he is stopped by any number of "gentlemen callers." They are all so kind, pouring shots down his throat. One presses a tiny piece of paper beneath his tongue and whispers "fly, pretty thing."

Eventually, he reaches the boy with the perfect hair. It has taken a lifetime. He comes up behind him, holds him, wants to whisper "I'm yours, I have always been yours."

He can't. Something inside twists.

"Buy me a drink and I'll suck your cock." And it's true. The lights over his head are swarming, and he can't really see right, and he might faint or throw up but who cares. And his muscles are tensing and he's hearing Debbie Harry and then Morrissey and surely they couldn't be clinging that long and the future and the past are confused and

OW!

He's on his ass. FUCKER.

FUCKER! Fucking goddamn fucker with his beautiful fucking goddamn ugly fucking hair Jack-fucking-ass thinks he's so fucking smart like fucking goddamn what the FUCK ever 

And he's trying to stand and Earl's arms are around him and he's so FUCKING angry BEAMS ABOVE what the FUCKING HELL and he's spitting at the beautiful boy that is running, running out of the club, fucking BEAUTIFUL UGLY FUCKING JERK

And Earl's hugging him. And Earl's trying to make him drink water. And eventually Earl buys him a drink and, even though Earl says he doesn't have to, Cecil blows him in his truck. 

And he does a good job, because Earl stays the night. And he has to sneak out the next morning so the Scouts won't see him, and Cecil has to go to work with vapors in his throat and trails before his eyes. And he thinks of the boy with the perfect, ugly hair.

He hates that boy.

**Author's Note:**

> So the title and the epigram are from "Atomic" by Blondie, but I prefer (and I think Glam Trash Cecil would also prefer) the version by Sleeper on the Trainspotting soundtrack.


End file.
